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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/29337918">shades of grey</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/deansbowie/pseuds/deansbowie'>deansbowie</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Supernatural</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Bisexual Dean Winchester, Demon Blood Addict Sam Winchester, Girl Dean Winchester, Hurt Dean Winchester, Hurt Sam Winchester, If Supernatural (TV) Were on HBO, Inspired by tumblr prompts, John Winchester Being an Asshole, John is even more sucky in this so be warned, Please read, Rewrite, bc I have religious trauma and this is how I cope, because I said so, cas will be in this eventually, dark catholic undertones, like literally Im rewriting the whole show, lots of foreshadowing to the siblings being Micheal and Lucifers vessels, might go till season 10 bc I wanna write benny, oh but dean is a girl named millie, only seasons 1-5, or I might write a different fic about purgatory, the demon blood is a bit more problematic, this touches on the idea that not all monsters are bad, why</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>In-Progress</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2021-02-10</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2021-02-18</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-13 12:14:39</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Not Rated</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>3</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>1,863</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/29337918</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/deansbowie/pseuds/deansbowie</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>my rewrite if supernatural aired on HBO. But I made dean a girl, deal with it. named her Millie because that's johns moms name. she's really badass by the way. completely inspired by Tumblr prompts so its good. you could read this without watching the show, just saying. the first chapter pretty much sets the mood for the entire thing, so please at least read the first chapter. its like 500 words so it won't take you too long. thank you! </p><p>the fic Devils Trap by stay_inlove also inspired this. the writer stoped writing but I couldn't leave this idea unwritten, so here's my take</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>2</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>7</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>1. PROLOGUE</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>I have a spotify play list for HBO SPN if you wanna check that out. its called "supernatural airing on hbo" by isalitore</p>
    </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>PROLOGUE</p><p>      The world exists in shades of grey, nothing in creation is simply black or white. Yes, some things are darker than others,  and some are just barely stained. So that man who shoplifted from the gas mart, the straight-A student at the local high school, and the pastor at the Catholic church down the block, are all on that scale. But also the demon who bought the woman's soul at the crossroad, the angel who healed the nine-year-old boy’s cancer, and the vampire that drinks out of blood bags instead of necks. Yes, the supernatural is real, but remember: shades of grey. The people who hunt said monsters are also on the scale, and this story is about them, about the men, women, and children who spend their lives hunting the things that live in the night.</p><p>CHAPTER I</p><p>      There are three Christian churches around Stanford University in Palo Alto. One was connected to the school, it was used for student church groups, another one was a giant cathedral, it held mass every Sunday and Wednesday. And the last one was an old run-down catholic church, most likely hasn’t been used since the eighteenth hundreds. This church has massive stained glass windows, rows and rows of wooden pews, and an altar in the front center. On the walls hung paintings depicting beautiful art work, that even through the tears and dust, could still be seen. There was a painting of the Angel war, the archangel Micheal casting Lucifer to hell. There was a painting of the garden, and one more of Jesus on the cross. Under the ceiling, which was probably more holy than the cross, sat Sam Winchester. He was a 22-year-old student at Stanford, studying to become a lawyer. Every Sunday he would walk from his apartment down to this church, if you could even call it that. Every Sunday he would sit in a pew, squeeze a rosary, say hail marys, and watch his hands as they bleed. He would sit through the itch in his skin that started when he walked through the doors. Sam would flinch as he swallowed holy water and felt it burn all the way down his throat. Sam Winchester was not a normal kid, not because his family hunted monsters as a job, not because he hasn’t seen his sister in four years, and not because his mother died in his nursery twenty-two years ago. Sam Winchester was not normal because he couldn’t read the bible without feeling like his insides were tearing apart. Sam Winchester was not normal because when he ate salty foods, it left his mouth burnt and raw for hours. Sam Winchester was not normal because his greatest fear is turning into the demons he hunted</p>
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<a name="section0002"><h2>2. NOVEMER 2, 1983</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>flashback to November 2, 1983</p>
          </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Lawrence, Kansas. November 2, 1983</p><p>      “Millie it's bedtime!”  Mary Winchester shouts from down the stairs. She is a beautiful woman, in her late twenties, long blonde hair, and bright blue eyes, unlike the four-year-old Millie, who has leaf green eyes and light brown hair. Millie's bedroom is one door down from her six-month-old brother Sam, so she always has trouble sleeping with little Sammy's cries.

      An hour or two later Mary suddenly wakes up to the noise monitor from Sammy's room, she looks to her left where her husband John Winchester should be sleeping. John is nothing like Mary in terms of looks, he is very tall with dark brown hair and eyes, but in every other way, John and Mary are identical. Their music taste, their style, their love for the beautiful 67’ chevy impala, their secrets, and most of all their devotion to their children. So it was no shock when Mary did not see John in the bed next to her, she was sure he was in Sam's room. Mary got out of bed and started walking across the hall to the nursery when the lights in the hallway started flickering. Her eyes darted to the lamp, then to the crooked cross that hung on the wall. At that moment the tiny flicker caused a memory to come back to her that she hasn't thought about in years. She raced to Sammy's room. Her last thought before opening the nursery door was that she wished she had told John the events that had happened in 1973.<br/>

John was downstairs asleep in his chair, watching the late-night news when he woke up hearing Mary's screams from the nursery. He sprints to his son's room unsure of what he will find, but when he opens the doors all he sees is baby Sam in his crib. At first, he thought he imagined his wife's screams, but when a small drop of blood appeared in Sammy’s crib, he looked up to see his beautiful wife stuck to the ceiling.<br/>

The next minute went in slow motion, each second felt like years. In the first second after John looked up to see his wife trapped to the ceiling, he didn't know what to think, he was scared and confused. His brain was working overtime trying to figure out what was happening in the nursery. By the second, he saw the blood on her pure white nightgown. The blood had started on her midsection, then the bright red liquid started to spread and drip down on John. The third second was when the fire started. The neon orange and red flames began behind Mary and spread out to the four corners of the room. The fire looked almost alive as it encompassed his wife. Once the fourth second hit Millie was awake, she ran into Sammy's room to see her father scream as they watched the horror unfold above them. John grabbed the six-month-old and handed him to Millie.<br/>

“Take your brother outside as fast as you can, don't look back! Now Millie! Go!”<br/>

Millie stopped running as soon as she felt the cool dry air. She looked up to see her baby brother's nursery engulfed in flames. She looked back down to see Sammy crying. Millie walked over to her parent’s car. She never knew why they loved that thing so much, but then again she was only four, she barely understood anything. But at that moment she knew. The pristine shine of the black paint, the elegant curves around the wheels, the smooth leather on the seats, the whole vintage feel of it all, and the familiar scent of her mom's perfume and her dad's cologne.<br/>

She waited by that car for what felt like forever staring at the bedroom window watching the fire spread, she waited to hear her father's voice, she waited to find out if she would ever see her mother again, and when John ran out the front door tears streaming down his face. That was the moment Millie knew her childhood had ended, She Knew that life would never be the same, but Millie didn't know how right she was.<br/>

As John sat on the hood of his car with Millie and Sam, just watching the firefighters put out the flames, he realized that what happened in that small town in suburban Kansas that night wasn't natural.<br/>
So he hunted, all three of them hunted the supernatural until they found who or what killed Mary that night.</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0003"><h2>3. PALO ALTO. OCTOBER 31, 2005</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <span>      Now dark, and no light besides candles, Sam finally got up. He walked his shaking legs out of the church. As soon as he hit the fresh, cool, October air, he felt better. But until he walked back to his apartment, the burning in his gut wouldn't go away. By now, Jessica, his girlfriend, would be asleep. He did stay at the church a little longer than usual, something felt off about today. He took a quick shower and climbed in bed, hoping to sleep off the knot in his stomach.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>      A little less than an hour away from the university, Millie Winchester drove down highway 101, in her beloved 1967, chevy impala. David Bowie playing on the cassette, a window down to let out her cigarette smoke, the night air clearing out the smell. Millie was thinking about a couple things, not exactly 'happy' thoughts to say the least. Some were random, like that girl she met at a bar. Some were about her dad, like how long he's been missing, and how he would disapprove of said girl from the bar. But most were about her brother, Sam. Millie didn't like to think about him often, even though she did. She wondered if he would judge her for her new tattoo, or if he would be accepting of what she did with that girl from the bar. Millie wondered what Sams been doing for the last four years, she wondered if he would even go with her. Maybe he didn't care that their dad was missing, after all John Winchester was not a top tier father. But he was missing, and Millie needed Sam's help to find him.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>      At this point she got tired of her thoughts, so she just turned up the volume, David Bowie's voice filling the car. Millie was 30 minutes out from Stanford, 30 minutes out from Sam. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>      When she pulled up to Sam's apartment, being as quiet as she could, but the rumble of the impala wasn't exactly subtle. Hopefully she didn't wake anyone up. Millie thought over her options, she could just ring the doorbell, but it might be too late for that. She could call Sam, no, what if she woke someone else up? who knows if Sam has roommates. Millie always keeps her lock pick on her, so she could really easily break in. 

      It took about an hour before Millie made up her mind, she had just been pacing back and forth. What was she supposed to say anyway? She hasn't talked to her brother in way too long, and now she was about to break into his apartment at one in the morning, smooth move Millie. Eventually she got out her lock pick and opened the door. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>      Sam woke up to a noise in his kitchen, he looked over to the bedside table next to Jess, one AM. Sam climbed out of bed, grabbed the bat he keeps under his bed, just for safety. He walked across his tiny apartment, he saw that someone clearly made themselves at home, the light in the kitchen was on. He peaked over into the kitchen, that's when he saw her. A woman, looked around mid twenties, dirty blond hair in long french braids. She was wearing jeans, combat boots, doc martens to be exact. She had on a black shirt, with a red flannel over it. The woman's shirt was covering most of her arm, but Sam could see part of her arm, towards her hand. It looked like she had an entire sleeve of tattoos, stretching all the way down to her wrist. She was the spitting image of his sister. And soon Sam realized that's because she is his sister. Sam was in utter shock. His sister, who he hasn't spoken to in four years, poured herself whisky and is currently drinking in his kitchen, at one in the morning.</span>
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